Amman Journal; Kosher in Jordan, an Idea Whose Time It Wasn't

By YOUSSEF M. IBRAHIM

Published: September 14, 1995

AMMAN, Jordan, Sept. 13—
If peace between Israel and Jordan was meant to radiate warmth, it did not work out that way for Khalid al-Hindi and his Israeli partner, Pinchas Sela, at the first and only kosher restaurant in this part of the Arab world.

A year after a peace treaty between the two countries was signed with fanfare, Mr. Hindi glanced sadly at two dozen empty tables at Istanbul, his modest, somewhat seedy, restaurant, and the patio outside.

"Enough is enough," he said. "I am turning it into a nightclub with dancers, bar girls and Saudi patrons. It's time I start making some money instead of being taken for a ride."

From Haifa, Israel, where he operates SAZ International Medical Services, Mr. Sela said by telephone that he was even more disappointed, accusing his former partner of deception, too. The two men are not on speaking terms, threatening lawsuits and other unpleasantness.

Like peace, Amman's brief flirtation with a kosher restaurant seemed, when it opened on June 8, to be a promising idea.

Scores of journalists showed up, cameras rolled and images of Arab-Jewish reconciliation flashed on Israeli and Jordanian television. But even though it is not far from the five-star Forte Grand Hotel, where thousands of Israeli tourists have stayed since the opening, hardly any religious Jewish visitors bothered to sample Istanbul's kosher fare, and it never received its kosher certificate, signed by a rabbi.

The restaurant, which belongs to Mr. Hindi and which had its name before it became kosher, had been doing fairly good business. It was taking in at least $170 "on bad days," he said, and much more when Saudis or other Arabs from the Persian Gulf came and stayed late into the night.

Then Mr. Hindi, a Palestinian with Jordanian citizenship, met Mr. Sela, who convinced him that there is much more money in catering to religious Jews, even though it meant abandoning the Arab clientele.

Now, Mr. Hindi said, "I am lucky if I make 15 dinars a day," or about $20. With daily expenses of at least $140, he said, he is going bankrupt.

As expected, Istanbul's previous clientele of Jordanians and other Arabs stayed away. .

"In the three months we've had 120 patrons altogether, instead of the 400 Jewish tourists a day Sela promised," said Ali al-Azi, the restaurant's manager. The staff has been cut from 16 to 5. Waiters look sadly at the few customers who come in.

Peace is not doing much better elsewhere in Jordan.

At the garment district, a busy industry here, Ahmad Dahbour, owner of a small manufacturing enterprise that employs about 30 people, said that while the textile sector is "ideal" for joint ventures with enterprising Israelis, it is still too early for any, for "psychological reasons."

And while King Hussein and Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin of Israel are said to have become the best of friends, many of the King's men and Israeli officials now say there is more to peacemaking than declarations of good intentions.

Despite progress toward ending the Arab-Israeli conflict -- with Israelis, Palestinians, Egyptians and Jordanians formally committed to peace, and with Syria negotiating as well -- the accumulated distrust appears to stand like a stubborn block of ice between Arabs and Jews, unable to melt quickly enough to open the way for true normalization.

On the face of it, Istanbul restaurant seemed a sure bet.

With a flow of Israeli tourists into Jordan estimated at 60,000 to 80,000 in the year since the peace accord was signed, Mr. Sela and Mr. Hindi set up the venture to offer religious Jews visiting Amman a kosher restaurant that could serve 200 to 400 a day -- a bonanza by any standard.

But only a trickle came, and the kosher certificate that Mr. Hindi said was supposed to be produced by Mr. Sela never materialized.

The Israeli businessman said his Jordanian partner never undertook changes necessary to persuade his rabbi to issue the certificate, but he acknowledged that he vastly underestimated what it would cost.

"It is true it costs a lot of money for a kosher certificate," he said. "The rabbi wanted $7,000 a month. I told Khalid Hindi if you are willing to pay $7,000 then it's O.K., but he said that was not possible."

"Every other day Sela would call me to say he put advertisements in the papers and television for the restaurant, but the results were zero," Mr. Hindi said. "Those who came hardly spent any money at all."

Mr. Sela said the restaurant simply did not live up to expectations and asserted that Mr. Hindi inflated his bills.

"I matched what he said he spent by advertising here," Mr. Sela said. The Jordanian responded that Mr. Sela's claims of placing ads were greatly exaggerated.

In fact, the project was wobbly from the start. Most Israeli tourists who come here visit for a day or so to see the ruins of Petra, a three-hour drive from Amman. Those who do come to the capital are generally affluent and not particularly Orthodox, tending to stay in the better hotels and eat at restaurants much finer than Istanbul. Neither businessman knew enough about the other, and each seemed bent on making a quick profit.

So as of Tuesday, Amman's only kosher restaurant is no longer kosher. And, Mr. Hindi said, if he ever sees Mr. Sela he will teach him a lesson. Mr. Sela said he never wants to see Mr. Hindi again.

Photo: Amman's kosher restaurant, meant to draw Israeli tourists, has not been a great success. Along with changing the menu, there are plans now to add dancers and bar girls. The manager, Ali al-Azi, pored over his accounts. (Bill Lyons for The New York Times)